One Step at a Time
by p0ck3tf0x
Summary: Gilbert was a circus performer and he had been his entire life. The circus had a habit of picking up misfits and eccentrics but the performers here were some of the strangest characters he had ever met. He just had to keep reminding himself to take it one step at a time… And not look down.
1. Chance Encounters

_This is dedicated to Mayurei13, soulglutton98, and orangepencils on fanfiction and a_lonely_scribe on livejournal for encouraging me to post and for, well, being encouraging. Thank you very much. Mayurei13, as MapleVogel, drew a piece for One Step at a Time and I am going to attempt to post it as the cover. I have her permission to use it. This is one of my favourite pieces by her but she has drawn so many for me. I hope to use some of the others as covers in the future. (Not many authors are so lucky.) I would recommend checking her out, especially if you love prussiaxcanada, on tumblr. There is a link in my profile.  
_

_Synopsis: Gilbert was a circus performer and he had been his entire life. The circus had a habit of picking up misfits and eccentrics but the performers here were some of the strangest characters he had ever met. He just had to keep reminding himself to take it one step at a time… And not look down._

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete. _

* * *

_It's impossible to be certain  
Stretch your arms out wide  
Keep your mind on doing things  
One step at a time  
It's impossible to find balance  
When you're up so high  
It's not the time for looking back  
You've left it all behind_

_**Balance – Ash Koley**_

* * *

**One Step at a Time**

_Chance Encounters_

Gilbert wandered into the bright and colourful parade with his canvas pack hitched over his shoulder. There were ribbons and balloons and music wafting through the air. The smell of sweets and powdered sugar overpowered the worse, pungent smells he knew were lurking just beneath the surface.

An elephant marched in front of him and he ducked under the great stomach of the beast without thought to those giant, pounding feet. Someone else might have been frightened or worried. Someone else might have flinched. Someone else might have refused to take the risk.

But he was not someone else.

He was a circus performer and he had been his entire life.

The tourists gave him wide berth as he searched for the ringmaster but the other performers paid him no passing glance. In all the rest of the world he was unusual, strange, and not to be trusted. The circus had a habit of picking up the misfits and the forgotten and the lost and he was welcome here despite his odd colouring.

He was an albino.

His skin was so white that it put milk to shame; his hair was loose and soft and more like feathers than hair. His eyes were perhaps the most startling in a crimson that sent children running to their mothers. He was handsome, he thought, despite those traits or maybe because of them but it was difficult for most to swallow.

Thus, here he was; a lifetime of working in freakshows.

He was searching for the largest tent. He did not know for sure if that was where he would find the ringmaster but it was a starting place. Most ringmasters possessed a love of flourish and grandeur and wanted the largest tent, the largest personal tent, for themselves. Each circus was different, it was part of their charm, but there were forever similarities.

He was speaking from experience; Gilbert and his brother had joined seven circuses in their lifetime.

His brother was standing at the gate on the other end of the grounds because he was terrible with crowds. Sad, but true. Ludwig could not weave between the hordes of visitors. He could barrel through them, sure, or pick them up and toss them out of his path but it was sort of destructive.

Ludwig was a strongman. He could bend steel and snap chains, and it was impressive, but he would never be mistaken for graceful.

The two of them were orphans and a passing circus had thought them, or rather him, too sweet a deal to pass up fifteen years ago. Gilbert had been born a freak but Ludwig had grown into his role.

He stepped between the ropes that were pitching the tents.

His brother was protective of him; Ludwig would not stand for it when their last ringmaster started mistreating him behind the scenes. Ludwig packed their bags the night he found out and forced Gilbert to leave under the cover of darkness. His intentions were pure, of course, but it had the unfortunate side effect of putting them out of work.

It was not as if Gilbert could work anywhere else; the circus was his home now.

So, here he was; at a new circus looking for work… Looking for a new life.

Gilbert came around the back of a tent and found the surliest clown he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He was tall, taller than most clowns, with a painted face that was almost as white as his own and dark kohl rimming his eyes. He was wearing a loose, pale suit with black buttons and collar. He seemed to be the 'whiteface clown' and he was not pleased to see Gilbert.

"Ummm… Hello there. Could you point me towards the ringmaster?" Gilbert gestured left and then right to demonstrate his confusion.

The clown just scowled at him. His stare was intense and Gilbert thought it must be cruel, ironic fate that this man was a clown. He readjusted his pack.

"Please?"

The clown continued to scowl and it was starting to piss Gilbert off; he had tried to be polite because he and his brother needed to eat but this was ridiculous.

"Look, I'm not sure what crawled up your ass and died but…" He stepped forward and pointed a finger at the clown with the intention of sparking an argument. Another clown came tumbling out of the tent with a '_squeak'_ and landed at his feet in a comical heap. It distracted Gilbert from his temper.

The second clown scrambled up and held his hands out in a peaceful gesture. He was flustered and earnest.

"It's not his fault!"

"… What?"

"Berwald is just intimidating, that's all. It's not his fault. He doesn't mean to be; he just is."

Gilbert pointed at the scowling clown and the shorter clown nodded his head in affirmation. The second clown was wearing almost the same outfit except that the buttons on his suit were blue and so was the paint surrounding his eyes. He came up to shoulders of the first one but somehow the two of them managed to be a matched pair.

"He's an asshole, that's what he is."

Berwald muttered under his breath but the words were incomprehensible.

"He's not. He's just…" The second clown trailed off with a frown as if he were looking for the exact words to describe Berwald. Gilbert thought 'asshole' would do just fine.

"I'm looking for the ringmaster."

The shorter clown blinked wide violet eyes and cocked his head to the side.

"He's on the other side of the grounds," he said and he sounded apologetic. "You've been going in the wrong direction."

"Damn," Gilbert twisted on his heel and began retracing his steps. The shorter clown shouted after him.

"I'm Tino! What's your name?"

Gilbert granted him a wave of his hand without glancing backwards.

"Gilbert."

He turned the corner.

* * *

Gilbert was right back where he started; he had no idea where the ringmaster was but he had relied on blind luck so far and he was too proud to ask the clowns for more specific directions.

The tourists seemed to be slowly trickling out but there were still too many people milling about the grounds. The show must be over but no one would be leaving for at least an hour or so. At least most of them skirted around him.

There were forgotten sweets coating the ground and the odd article of clothing but that was to be expected. He was stepping over a lost tie when someone stormed out of the tent to his left and almost ran into him.

"All you had to do was pull the bloody rabbit out of the hat!" He was blonde with substantial furrowed eyebrows poised over brilliant green eyes. He was waving a wand as he ranted. "Hat. Rabbit. Hat! Rabbit! What is so hard about that?"

Another blonde came running out after him wearing an overabundance of sequins and glitter. Most men, or women for that matter, would have been uncomfortable dressed like that but he seemed perfectly at home in the outfit.

"My sweet! I was simply distracted by your lovely visage!"

"Francis, I am _this_ close to killing you and hiding the body, mark my words. _This _close!"

"Arthur! How you've wounded me!"

"Not yet but when I get my hands on you…"

The first blonde, Arthur, turned and started chasing the sequined man, Francis, through the crowd. The two of them disappeared and Gilbert watched them go. He sighed.

Magicians.

* * *

Gilbert slouched against one of the tents and wondered if his brother was worried. He probably was.

His feet were a bit sore but he had been in worse circumstances. Much, much worse. He knew that this, at least, was an ache that would come to pass but he still just wanted to give up. He wanted to go home and curl up beneath warm covers and forget about finding the ringmaster but... He did not have a home. Not until he found the ringmaster and secured work for the two of them. The circus was his home and so, right now, he was homeless.

Gilbert was still leaning against the canvas tent when he heard that wet sound of fabric tearing. He glanced right to see the shining blade of a knife piercing the tent two inches from his skull.

"Son of a…" He leapt from the tent.

"Natalia!" Someone from within the tent shouted before switching to a rapid foreign language he did not understand. Her voice was panicked.

He was still touching his scalp, checking for injuries, when two women emerged from the tent. The first one was beautiful but her expression would have even Berwald running for the hills; the adorable bow in her hair could not compete with the two dangerous knives clutched between her fingers. The second woman was anxious and possessed the largest pair of breasts he had ever seen. Her short hair was held in place with a headband.

"I'm sorry! We're sorry! We're so, so, so sorry!" The second one was almost tripping over herself apologizing and if Gilbert had been upset before, it was hard to be now; she seemed sincere. The one with the knives did not seem apologetic at all and she pressed her finger against one of the blades as she stared at him to prove the point. He wondered if she had been aiming for him.

"That's alright, Miss…?" He waited for her to fill in her name. If he wanted to work here it was better for him to know as many of the performers as he happened to, literally, bump into. Which had been quite a few so far now that he thought about it…

"Oh, how impolite of me! My name is Yekaterina, or Katyusha for short, and this is my younger sister Natalia."

He wondered if he should explain that 'Katyusha' was not much shorter than 'Yekaterina' but decided against it. Natalia was still fondling the knife and she might just be waiting for an excuse to use it. He would hate to be the one to give her that excuse.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." And his brother thought he had no manners. Granted, it was easier to be polite around attractive women. "Can you point me towards the ringmaster?"

It was a matter of pride to ask Berwald for directions but another matter entirely to ask Katyusha.

"Ah, you're almost there." She pointed left. "Keep walking east and turn right at the tent with the blue polka dots. It is the red tent at the end with the yellow flag on top."

Tourists thought that the dreadful, tasteless coloured tents were there to dazzle and amaze them but their true purpose was for directions. Otherwise, the performers would never be able to find their costumes or props or even their own tents.

He thanked her and backed up without turning his back to the women and presenting a clear target. He held his hands out in front of him as if dealing with a wild, dangerous animal. Katyusha seemed confused but he was not turning his back on Natalia while she still had two more knives in her hand.

He was not suicidal.

* * *

He was beginning to wish that he had left his pack with his brother but it was too late to go back now. Gilbert was not even sure where _he_ was anymore, never mind where he had left his brother. Ludwig would be worried about him now, if he had not been before, and it was heart wrenching.

Gilbert decided would find the ringmaster first and then deal with the remaining issues, such as locating his brother, in order of importance. He was sort of impressed that his voice of reason was overwhelming all of the other voices in his head. It was rare.

He ran his fingers over the tents as he walked by; keeping an eye out for blue polka dots, and relished the familiar texture beneath his fingers.

It was quieter at this end of the grounds. These must be the personal tents rather than those used in performances.

He caught sight of the blue polka dots, although it was more turquoise than blue, and hurried towards the tent. Each step made his pack little lighter and his feet a little less swollen; he was almost there.

He turned the corner, expecting to see the red tent, and instead found a charging horse heading straight for him.

"Get out of the way, you idiot! Get out of the way!" There was a woman in an emerald dress chasing after the rogue horse, waving her arms, but it was background noise to the feral animal about to trample him.

His life did not flash before his eyes; this was not a cliché. Instead, he had a moment to regret his wasted afternoon before someone wrapped their fingers around his wrist and hauled him out of the horse's path. The two of them fell backwards onto the dirt with a _'whumph_' of dust and grime. He had dropped his pack at some point.

The horse went galloping past and the woman went screaming after it.

He just sort of laid there with his eyes still closed, listening to the horse in the distance, and wondered at his luck. It was a conundrum; was he _unlucky_ because there was a horse or _lucky_ because someone had grabbed him in time? He snuggled against them and listened to their heartbeat.

It was hammering against their ribcage but Gilbert was sure that his own was tapping out a tango rhythm.

It was good to be alive.

"Ummm… Excuse me? You're, um, crushing me."

Gilbert allowed himself one last moment of peace before raising himself up with his arms so that he was hovering over them; still touching but without the weight. He opened his mouth to make some tongue-in-cheek comment but all of his clever words died on his lips.

The most beautiful man he had ever seen was pressed against him, covered in dirt and scrapes, and blushing.

"Well, damn."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Oh, I went there. The circus is in town._

_Sometimes I am just sitting there, unfocused, and entire stories just appear out of nowhere. Bam! This one appeared like that. There was no precursor; it just sprang to life without permission (I have a dozen other pieces that need attention). The scene, the characters; it was all in place before I had even realized what had happened. I think our subconscious mind, or mine at least, entertains ideas and weaves plots together behind our backs. And then it jumps me in the darkness of a back lane… _

_This piece is set in the late 1800s or perhaps the beginning of the 1900s. The circus was a constant during that timeframe so an exact date does not matter so much. It is set in Europe because it allows a travelling circus more cities to travel to and from._

_Yes, this is PrussiaxCanada. You know me so well. Yes, This is another piece that introduces a lot of side characters._

_Yes, I know Tired of Waiting is still, well, waiting. I had thought that everyone else had lost interest in it as well but there has been quite a bit of interest as of late so I am deconstructing it and continuing. There is no point if I am not pleased with it. The next two chapters of it are written so this week or the next I will start setting aside time to lace it back together. This piece, on the other hand, is easy and fun. I have mapped most of it out (which I learnt after ToW) and I have written a quarter of it before even posting it here. But I like it, I am proud of it, and I wanted to share. _

_I hope you like it too._

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this piece.**_


	2. Welcome to the Circus

_What kind of circus is this?  
What kind of fools are we?  
When is the final curtain?  
What can I do to set me free?_

_Welcome to the real world  
You better be strong  
Never know which way to go  
It might end up wrong  
So you'd better be strong_

_**Circus – Lenny Kravitz**_

* * *

**One Step at a Time**

_Welcome to the Circus_

"Well, damn."

The man tucked beneath him covered his blushing cheeks with his hands and refused to meet his eyes. Gilbert used the chance to admire him.

He was painted in dirt and scrapes from their earlier tumble but his colouring was a warm, sweet peach beneath that. His curls were spread out around his head in a blonde halo. He would not make eye contact but Gilbert could see that his eyes were lavender and wonderful behind those blonde eyelashes. His fingers pressed to his cheeks were long and thin but his hands were calloused and strong; he had grabbed him from in front of a charging horse, after all.

He was squirming and Gilbert had to push off of him lest he found out just how 'excited' he was to see him. He sat beside him instead with one of his knees raised.

The blonde did not bother to sit up and instead continued to lie prone on the ground. Gilbert could see the rest of his body now and it mirrored his hands; tall and slender but athletic too. He was wearing loose clothes in cotton and strange, thin leather shoes that were familiar to him for some reason. The shoes were worn and tattered and he was surprised that the laces were able to hold the remaining scraps together.

"Remind me to murder Elizabeta," the blonde mumbled from behind his hands. He had probably not meant for him to hear it but Gilbert grinned and answered anyway.

"I can do that. Thank you, by the way, for grabbing me. 'Horse' is not on my list of preferred deaths."

The blonde peeked through his fingers and returned the smile. He sat up and folded his hand in lap so that he was almost demure despite their situation. His blushing was more subdued but the tips of ears were pink when he tucked a loose curl behind one. He was magnificent but Gilbert would not be able to explain the reason if someone asked; he just was. In simple clothes and plastered with dirt, he was beautiful.

"You're welcome. It happens more often than she would like to admit. The ringmaster has wanted her to switch to ponies for awhile now. Smaller, you know."

Gilbert groaned and slapped his forehead.

"Ugh, the ringmaster."

"Excuse me?"

"The ringmaster. That's what got me into this whole mess in the first place. I've been looking for him all afternoon." He frowned when his realized that the ringmaster _was_ the root of all his problems. "And when I find that stupid, cock sucking son of a whore…"

The blonde gasped at the profanities before giggling as if he had shared in a wicked secret. Gilbert wondered if he was not allowed to swear or if it was just a random quirk. His manner of speaking was polite, true, but Gilbert had never joined a circus without swearing.

"I can escort you there, if you like. It's close."

Gilbert stared at him.

"You work here?" It should have been obvious. He was wearing casual clothing that a tourist would never wear to a carnival and far within the circle of personal tents. He had spoken about the animal trainer as if he knew her. Still, he did not possess that aura of a performer.

The circus was a place for misfits. Why the hell was he here?

"Eat, breathe, and live here too." He stood up and dusted himself off but it made little difference. "I'm an acrobat."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Acrobats were normally shorter than he was but he had to admit that the musculature was the same. He must have caught the look because he laughed and pointed to his shoes.

"I'm on the highwire."

That made sense. That was the reason those shoes seemed familiar to Gilbert, although he had never seen a pair so worn. Never. He must have spent all of his time with his head in the clouds.

He offered Gilbert his hand to help him stand and he took it because his pants were not as tight anymore and he would not embarrass himself. The hand was warm with a firm grasp just as he knew it would be.

"Gilbert," he said as the blonde dragged him to his feet.

"Matthew."

Gilbert knew that his smile had widened into something inappropriate when Matthew flushed again but he was just pleased to have a name. Perhaps a little more than pleased.

His 'wasted' afternoon was looking up.

"It's a… _pleasure_ to meet you, Matthew." He made the word sound dirtier than it should.

His blush darkened another shade and he turned on his heel to lead Gilbert to the red tent he had spent his afternoon searching for. Gilbert fell into step beside him with a humming tune, scooping up his pack as he passed it, and admired the view.

"Come on then," he mumbled. "I'll show you to the ringmaster."

* * *

Gilbert frowned at the tent. The woman, Katyusha, had told him that the tent was red but this was very, very pink. He would have walked right past it if Matthew had not stopped in front of it and held out his hands in a 'voila' gesture. There was white lace trimming the bottom and it disturbed him.

"It's… Pink?"

"Yes it is."

"She said it would be red."

"Pink is a shade of red."

Gilbert settled on Matthew with a glare but he just shrugged his shoulders and pulled back the flap of the tent. He ushered Gilbert inside and let it fall back into place behind them.

The inside of the tent was lit with dim lanterns that he knew had an unfortunate habit of catching fire and sectioned off with hanging fabric. It was a large tent, sure, but not as large as some of the other tents he had seen ringmasters claim. It was almost modest, despite the decorating.

There were doilies on most available surfaces and more than a few ceramic ponies in impossible colours of mauve and violet. He had assumed that when Matthew mentioned the ringmaster asking the animal trainer to switch to ponies, rather than horses, it had been a matter of size and manageability. Now he had a sneaking suspicion it was more than that.

There was child standing just inside the tent with a clipboard clutched to his chest. He was shivering as if terrified but Matthew just bent down to be a little closer to his level.

"Ravis, we're here to see the ringmaster." Gilbert had thought his voice was soft and gentle before but it was even more so when speaking to the child. "May we come in?"

"I… I… I'm not sure. Let me ask Eduard." He scurried off behind one of the curtains with the clipboard still pressed against his chest. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Is he always like that?"

"Always," Matthew nodded but he was smiling as if it were endearing rather than pathetic.

"Strange child."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Ravis is older than I am."

"You're kidding me."

The curtain was swept to the side again and another man came out with Ravis. He was much taller and much steadier. There was a curve to his mouth that said he was sarcastic and perhaps a little arrogant. He was wearing eyeglasses but the eyes behind them were intelligent and calculating. He was sure of himself whereas Ravis was the opposite.

He nodded to Matthew and held out his hand to Gilbert.

"Eduard. And you are?"

Gilbert shook his hand and resisted to urge to squeeze those fingers and see if he flinched.

"Gilbert."

Eduard turned from Gilbert, as if he were no longer important, and back to Matthew.

"You brought him here?"

"Yes, to meet the ringmaster."

"I am not so sure…"

"Elizabeta almost trampled him with a horse," Matthew interrupted and Eduard cringed. Ravis hiccupped even as his shivering grew worse. Judging from their reactions, it _was_ a more common occurrence than anyone would like to admit. The two of them pitied him but, if it allowed him to meet with the ringmaster, it was almost worth it.

Almost.

Gilbert despised it when someone pitied him. Hate, he could handle, but compassion was strange and foreign to him.

"If nothing else, we owe you a drink for your trouble," he sighed as if it pained him. It went unspoken that the alcohol was in lieu of apologies but Gilbert was alright with that. "Follow me."

He led them behind another curtain of pink fabric.

There were more ceramic ponies on this side of the curtain and Gilbert thought it must be a pain in the ass to pack and unpack them each time the circus went to a new town. Ceramic was breakable, after all, and the circus could not afford to be breakable. Not at all. It needed to be tenacious lest it fade and be forgotten; circuses had a habit of falling in and out of fashion but the performers could not afford to be out of fashion. It meant that no one ate for a week, a month, a decade.

It was difficult, if not impossible, for most of them to sneak back into the normal social order when this happened.

There was a man with saccharine blue eyes standing on the other side, his hands clasped in front of him, and a small smile on his face. It widened a bit when he saw Matthew before disappearing altogether at the sight of Gilbert. He seemed confused rather than upset.

"Matthew, a pleasure."

"Toris. We're here to see the ringmaster."

Toris looked to Eduard, who tilted his head in permission, before escorting them through the last curtain without further question. Gilbert felt his throat tighten in anticipation. It felt as if a lifetime had passed since the beginning of this strange adventure, although it could not have been much more than an hour, and he wanted it drawn to conclusion.

It was dimmer still behind this curtain but the faint light could not hide the fact that all of the furniture was painted with gold accents and covered in lace. Instead of multiple ceramic ponies, there was a single large sculpture of one to the right hand side of the desk.

That was not what was so alarming about the scene, although it would have been more than enough under normal circumstances.

What was alarming was the man sitting behind the desk.

At least…

Gilbert thought it was a man.

He was leaning back on the chair with his feet propped up on the desk and filing his nails. Again, this in itself was not alarming; that he was wearing high heels and a skirt was. His hair was blonde, parted in the centre, and just dusted his chin. Gilbert might have even decided he was a woman if it were not for the fact that his face was outright masculine.

"Toris," he whined and Gilbert thought his voice too high, too effeminate. "We need to, like, find that paperwork before tomorrow morning. Find it for me?"

Toris cleared his throat.

"Feliks, we have visitors. Gilbert, this is Feliks, our ringmaster."

Gilbert glared at Toris, then Eduard, and then poor shivering Ravis but none of them offered him an explanation for the man behind the desk. This had to be a joke, right? He turned to stare at Matthew instead and he gave him the slightest nod to indicate that he was indeed standing in front of the ringmaster.

He at least had the good grace to seem ashamed.

Feliks froze with the file poised over his nails. His eyes widened in terror for a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression into a haughtier, conceited glare. It had been so sudden that Gilbert was not sure he had seen it at all.

"Oh?" He was sneering.

Matthew stepped forward to single himself out and save the others the trouble.

"I brought him, sir."

"And _why_ would you do that?"

Gilbert wanted to step in and defend himself. He must have made some small motion to do so because Matthew pressed the palm of his hand against his stomach to stop him without turning around.

"Elizabeta almost knocked him over."

The condescending expression softened.

"One of the horses?"

Now Gilbert was positive that it was a common occurrence.

"Yes."

"I keep _telling_ her that ponies would be so much better." That whining pitch was creeping back into his voice. "She never listens!"

Eduard stepped forward so that Matthew was not alone. It was a subtle gesture but the gratitude on his face said it was much more to Matthew. Ravis, on the other hand, melted further into the shadows behind them.

"I offered him a drink."

Feliks knitted his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. He was staring at Eduard as if he had said something of particular interest. Perhaps offering a drink meant more than simple apologies here. Matthew was holding his breath.

Feliks sighed and swept his hand towards the seat in front of the desk.

"Take a seat," he was speaking to Gilbert. "Toris? A drink, please. Eduard, Ravis, you're free to go."

Eduard and Ravis disappeared through the curtain and Matthew went to follow them. Feliks reprimanded him.

"No, no, Matthew. Not you. Sit down."

Matthew curled his shoulders forward in defeat and sank into the chair next to the one Gilbert was sitting in. Toris set a drink down in front of both of them but Matthew ignored his. Gilbert cradled his own between his fingers and nursed it.

Toris passed the last one to the ringmaster and then stood behind Feliks with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Now," Feliks continued as he wrapped his fingers around his glass. "What brings you to my humble circus?"

Gilbert wanted to shout and scream and jump up and down on the desk because it had been such a hassle to get to this point but, instead, he bit his lip and remembered the reason he was here in the first place. His brother was counting on him.

"We're looking for work."

"'_We_'?" Feliks pointed at Matthew. "I already own this one."

Gilbert did not like his implication of ownership.

"No, my brother and I."

"That's swell, I'm sure, but what could you and your brother possibly have to offer me?"

Gilbert was not fond of the ringmaster but he tried to keep it from showing on his face.

"Ludwig is a strongman."

Feliks looked over his shoulder to Toris.

"Do we have one of those?"

Toris thought about it, looking as if he were running over a checklist in a mind, before shaking his head. It occurred to Gilbert that Toris would be a worthwhile assistant and that he might be the one who kept the circus operating rather than Feliks. He assumed that the other two were functioning in much the same role but could not fathom what Ravis might be in charge of. The flea circus, maybe?

"No. We used to, but he left two towns back. He met a woman and was planning to settle down, remember?"

Feliks snorted.

"Like, why would I remember that?"

"He worked with us for five years."

"And?"

"He grew up next door to you."

"And?"

"He named his eldest son after you…"

"And _why_ would I remember that?" Gilbert would have throttled him but Toris just sighed and let it go. Feliks turned back to Gilbert. "It seems we're in the market for a strongman. Congratulations. Is he any good?"

"The best." There was a hint of pride in his voice that Gilbert could not and would not hide.

"Say, just for a second, that I'm interested. What do _you_ have to offer me?"

"I'm an albino."

His eyes widened as if he had not noticed beforehand and Gilbert was fell in love with circus performers all over again. In the rest of the world, he was an albino first and Gilbert second. Here, he was allowed to be himself first and his albinism was just a random quirk of character.

Feliks pushed out of his chair and stalked around the desk in his high heels until he was standing next to Gilbert. He circled him.

"It could work, it could work," he muttered. Although this ringmaster was different than all the others Gilbert could remember meeting, there was a familiar air to this consideration and fixation. Gilbert was selling a product and the ringmaster was inspecting the merchandise; it just happened to be that he, himself, was the product he was selling. It was unnerving, sure, but he was used to staring. You had to be when working in a freakshow.

Feliks stopped circling.

"Toris?" It was a question. Toris made a couple of quick calculations before nodding. Feliks pressed on. "Alright, then. You're hired. Your brother too."

Gilbert offered him a handshake and he clasped his hand after a moment of hesitation. His grasp was too delicate, he thought, but a handshake was a handshake and in the circus it was a serious gesture. Their word was all most performers could claim as their own. The rest was static; it could come and it would go but a promise was a promise.

"Thank you," and despite not liking the ringmaster, he meant it. It was as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Gilbert had not realized how much the burden had weighed until it was gone; he must have been more worried than he thought.

"Yes, yes, I'm fabulous." He turned to Matthew for the first time in the entire conversation and was all business. "You're in charge of him, Matthew. Take care of him and his brother. You brought him here; he's your problem now. Drop him off at the freakshow after breakfast."

Matthew seemed a little out of his element but he accepted the challenge.

"I will, sir, and thank you."

He started towards the curtain and Toris was still waving his farewell as the blonde disappeared. Gilbert finished his drink and hurried after him. He was just leaving when he heard Feliks turn to Toris with a sigh.

"It's a shame that pink is not his colour. He would, like, look fantastic in blue though." His voice had returned to the high, effeminate tone from earlier.

Gilbert could hope that Feliks was not talking about him.

He had seen the ringmaster's idea of decorating and he wanted no part of it.

He may be a freak but he still had his dignity.

* * *

He stumbled out of the dreadful pink tent, into the evening, and smacked straight into Matthew. He was standing just on the other side of the tent flaps.

"Ouch, Matthew, what…"

"And _what_ is that?"

Gilbert thought he might have stumbled out of the tent and into the middle of a conversation. He peeked around Matthew to see a man with a sneer that put the ringmaster to shame. He was wearing a pressed suit that was out of place in the circus. His hair was slicked back except for one piece that refused to lie flat. There were eyeglasses perched on his nose and a black book, a ledger perhaps, in his hands.

It was in that first passing glance that Gilbert decided he did not like him.

"Not 'what', Roderich. 'Who'. This is Gilbert." Matthew gestured from one man to the other as he made the introductions. "He's joining our circus. Gilbert, this is Roderich."

"Ah, yes, a member of the _freakshow_ perhaps?"

Gilbert was not one to take offence to someone calling him a freak; it was true after all, but he said it as if it was something to be ashamed of. It was not. The circus was his home and it treated him better than he probably deserved.

"And what the hell are you; a clown? A snake charmer? The fucking snake, you cold blooded son of a bitch?" It was harsh, even for him, but the ringmaster had used up his last bit of graciousness.

"I most certainly am not!"

"Then 'what' are you?"

"If you must know," he seemed disgusted with the mere existence of someone like Gilbert and Gilbert felt the same, "I am the accountant."

Gilbert just stared at him.

"The… Accountant?"

"Yes, the accountant."

"And since when does the circus travel with an accountant?"

Roderich grimaced as if it were an idiotic question but there was the slightest stain of a blush on his cheeks.

"That is none of your business."

He pushed past both Matthew and Gilbert and into the tent. He watched him go and knew that he had won this argument.

Matthew snatched the pack from his hands as he stood there smirking and started off through the corridor of tents. He snapped out of it and followed him.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Ah," Matthew cast his gaze downwards, "Roderich does not like the circus, you see. He does not like the noise; he does not like the smell. Most of all, he does not like the performers.

Matthew seemed upset, as if it were a personal insult, and Gilbert wanted to punch Roderich all over again.

"Then what possible reason could he have for joining the circus? You cannot tell me he does not have better prospects elsewhere."

Matthew laughed.

"He's in love."

"What?"

"He's in love and love makes clowns of us all."

"Him? In love? Not possible."

"It's true. He fell in love and joined the circus just to be with her. The wealth, the mansion, the privileges; he left it all behind to be with her."

"That would almost be romantic if he were not such an asshole. Who did he take the tumble for?"

"Elizabeta."

"That wild woman?"

"That's the one."

"That is the strangest couple I can imagine off the top of my head and _I_ work in a freakshow."

"You'll get used to him…"

"I doubt that."

"… and he is getting better. He is good at what he does and he's made this circus profitable. That is the main reason the ringmaster keeps him around even when he is disrespectful; he's a good investment."

"Well, I do not like him."

Matthew laughed again.

"Yes, I gathered that when you called him a snake. Come on; let's go find your brother and tell him the good news. Where did you leave him?"

"… I have no clue…"

* * *

It took them longer than it should have but Matthew was able to help Gilbert retrace his steps to the gate. It was dark except for the moon and the stars and Gilbert never would have found his brother without assistance.

The paths between the tents were emptied of tourists now and seemed to ache with loneliness. There was something depressing about a circus without patrons; something poignant about performers without a crowd. One without the other just seemed wrong.

There was a chill on the wind that caressed rather than abused and Gilbert appreciated the breeze.

He was anxious to see his brother but walking through the labyrinth of tents with the blonde was a treat. Matthew was not one for idle chatter but he listened to Gilbert ramble as if it were important. There was a weight to his gaze as if were gathering information and cataloguing it for further review.

He was quiet but there was a sureness in how he held himself that conflicted with his polite and hesitant means of speaking. Gilbert wondered what sort of a past he had to end up here. If the circus was rich in misfortune, and it was, then it was richer in stories. He would figure it out.

Matthew led him around the corner and he caught sight of his brother's back. He started sprinting towards him before his mind could catch up with the motion of his legs. It was an automatic response.

"Ludwig!"

Ludwig turned around and the relief was palatable.

"Brother! Where have you been? I was worried."

"Of course you were," Gilbert stopped in front of him and knew the same relief was gracing his own face. "We're hired. I spoke with the ringmaster and I have to say that he was the weirdest man I have ever met, bar none."

"Whaaat? Ludwig will be working here? That's wonderful! We'll be working together!"

Gilbert looked past his brother for the first time and saw a pair of brunettes standing behind him. One, the one who had spoken, was cheerful and a little vacant but the one standing next to him was sullen and dour. He preferred the first one.

Twins.

Matthew came up behind him and acknowledged the twins, each one in turn, with a smile.

"Feliciano. Lovino. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ludwig."

The second one, Lovino, harrumphed but his gaze softened when he saw Matthew. It suited him. Feliciano brightened another shade of happiness, if that was possible, and latched onto Ludwig.

"Matthew, Matthew, he said that Ludwig was joining the circus! Is it true?"

"It's true."

"That's wonderful!" He shouted and clutched at Ludwig.

Gilbert glanced at his brother and raised an eyebrow.

"I see you've been making new 'friends'…" The brunette might have missed his teasing tone but his brother caught it and his reaction made up for it. His expression was caught somewhere between 'cornered' and 'ecstatic' and Gilbert knew that he must be fond of the smaller man. He wondered how long the twins had been standing with his brother at the gate.

"Yes!" Feliciano agreed.

"I am _not_ his friend." Lovino disagreed.

Matthew laughed. He touched Ludwig on the arm for his attention and swept his hand back towards the personal tents

"You can come with me, Ludwig, for tonight." He turned to the twins and offered an explanation. "It's late and I have to introduce them to the others in the morning."

"Oh, Matthew, can Ludwig come with us instead? Please, please, can he?"

Lovino seemed horrified but both of them ignored him. Matthew bit his lip as he thought it over and Gilbert found the habit endearing. It must have shown on his face because his brother granted him a stare of his own.

"I guess I can come fetch him in the morning."

"We can take him!"

"Ummm… No. No, I'll come get him. You'll never wake up in time, no offence meant. You miss breakfast at least twice a week."

"Oh. Oh, alright. But we can have him tonight, at least?"

"Sure, if he wants to go."

Feliciano stared up at Ludwig with such adoration that Gilbert knew his brother was a lost cause. Both of them were useless when it came to 'cute' or 'sweet'; Ludwig was just better at keeping it hidden than Gilbert.

Ludwig looked to Gilbert for approval.

"Brother?"

He did not want to split up, not at all, because tonight was their first night in a new place and he was protective. If his brother was comfortable with the arrangements, though, then he could not see a reason to stop him. He really, really wanted to find a reason but none were presenting themselves. Matthew touched his elbow and whispered in his ear as if sensing his hesitation.

"Feliciano and Lovino are just one row over from me. It's not far."

Now there was no reason at all to refuse. Fuck.

"Fine, that's fine," he turned to Feliciano, "but I want him back in one piece!"

"Sir, yes sir."

No further prompting was required; Feliciano dragged his brother into the sea of tents as if Ludwig was not three times his size and Ludwig let him. Lovino ran after them.

"I do _not_ want him in our tent!"

Gilbert watched his brother disappear and felt torn. He was pleased that his brother was finding his place and displeased in the same breath because it separated them.

Matthew threaded their arms together and led him back into the tents, escorting him, and Gilbert was grateful. He was not sure how long he would have kept standing there if left to his own devices.

"You can sleep with me."

Gilbert knew that was not what Matthew meant but his mind provided an outlet for his dirtier thoughts in such a vivid, sudden cascade of images that he blinked in surprise.

He was not even sure that position was possible.

But he would love to find out.

* * *

"There. Is. A. Polar. Bear. In. Your. Tent." Gilbert pressed the words through gritted teeth as he pressed the rest of himself against the canvas tent and as far from the animal as possible.

"His name is Kumajirou," Matthew was wandering around the tent, cleaning, although it looked fine to Gilbert. He was at perfect ease with the polar bear sitting in the centre and just stepped around him. "Kiku chose the name for me. You'll meet him in the morning."

"I… You… _Why_ is there a polar bear in your tent?"

"Why not?" Gilbert choked on all of the possible reasons to not keep a polar bear in a tent but Matthew took it as an admission of acceptance. He started folding blankets on the large cot and tucking in the corners. "Kumajirou was a gift from Elizabeta."

Gilbert found himself disliking this woman more and more.

He smoothed out the creases and that was when Gilbert noticed that there was just the one cot in the tent. The polar bear was still the more alarming realization but it was almost a tie. The cot was large enough for two, sure, but Gilbert had shown a surprising lack of restraint around the blonde so far. He knew that this was pushing his luck.

"One cot? Are we sharing?"

Matthew glanced up, caught his incredulous stare, and blushed.

"I did not think it would be a problem… Alfred and I have shared a bed forever. You'll be in his spot."

His heart plummeted to somewhere below his navel.

"Alfred? Who's Alfred?"

"Oh, Alfred is my twin brother, of course."

So there was another set of twins. How wicked.

His heart returned to where it belonged in relief that Alfred was not a sweetheart and perhaps it even crept a little higher than that. Hope was dangerous so he squashed it down again.

"Won't he be upset if he finds me sleeping in his spot?"

"Oh, no. Alfred has been sleeping somewhere else as of late…" He trailed off.

"Where?"

"I'm not sure…" It sounded like it bothered Matthew but Gilbert chose not ask the obvious questions. It seemed too raw a wound and it would just bleed if he started scratching at it. Matthew frowned and retreated to a crate on the other side of the polar bear that Gilbert wanted to avoid at all costs.

He rifled through the crate and found a white nightgown. He pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion and shook out his hair. Gilbert could not help staring at him. His back was perfect besides a couple of those scars that all performers seemed to collect.

He stepped out of his loose cotton pants and slipped into the nightgown instead. It was a little overbearing on his slender frame. It must have belonged to someone before him who was six inches taller and broad but that was common in a circus where clothes were passed around. The sleeves almost covered his fingers and the hem was long enough to trip on, so he gathered it in his hand and crawled into the cot.

He patted the side next to him.

Gilbert sighed and tried to crawl under the covers without changing but Matthew chastised him and made him remove his suspenders and then his trousers so that he was left in a collared shirt.

Matthew snuffed the lantern and settled next to Gilbert so that he was almost touching him. It was a large cot, sure, but not that large. Gilbert could feel the warmth of another beating heart next to his and found his mind taunting him with schemes and suggestions and propositions; each one more inappropriate than the last.

He snuggled down further under the covers and prepared himself for what would be a long, long, long night.

Damn.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Yes, yes, Poland is the ringmaster. It might seem a bit odd, I know, but when I was deciding where each of the characters fit in the circus it just sort of… Clicked. After all, no one can put on a show like Poland. He swings between shyness and that brazen overcompensation for his shyness involving absurd demands and a great, echoing voice. It is the second of his personalities that would lend itself to the title of ringmaster._

_And, yes, pink_ is_ a shade of red._

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this piece.**_


	3. Freakshow

_It's about freedom  
It's about faking  
There's an art to the laughter  
There's a science  
And there's a lot of love and compliance  
Welcome to the freakshow  
Here we go..._

_**Freakshow – Ani DiFranco**_

* * *

**One Step at a Time**

_Freakshow_

He woke up with an overweight polar bear stretched across his chest and was surprised that he woke up at all. He should have suffocated. There was a blonde curled against his side with his head cradled on his shoulder.

It took Gilbert a minute to remember where he was.

The polar bear shifted and knocked some of the air out of him. He was asleep, not threatening in the least, and Gilbert could almost appreciate the cuteness if it were not for that little voice in his head screaming '_it's a fucking polar bear_' and running around in wild circles.

His eyes widened as his dreams abandoned him; leaving him cold and awake.

"Shit."

The blonde, Matthew, cuddled against him with a whimpering whine and mumbled complaint.

"Alfred… Go back to sleep."

Great, Matthew thought that Gilbert was his twin. This would be a rude awakening for all, it seemed, but he needed the polar bear off of him before he either panicked or suffocated or somehow managed to do both at the same time.

"I'm not Alfred."

His breath hitched and Matthew stiffened against Gilbert as if he had roused all at once and realized his position pressed against him. Gilbert was certainly not complaining.

"Gilbert?"

"The one and only." Matthew buried his face in his shoulder in embarrassment. Gilbert wished he could lie back and appreciate the contact but the polar bear was crushing both his chest and his spirit. "Matthew, your polar bear is suffocating me."

Matthew sat upright with a frown. His nightgown was loose and hanging off of one shoulder; showcasing his collarbone. His curls were a mess and sticking up in all directions.

His eyes widened as his own dreams abandoned him.

"Oh, dear, I am so sorry!" Matthew leapt out of bed and gathered the large animal in his arms; his stomach and legs dangling. It was less than dignified but the polar bear did not even bother to wake up. Maybe he was used to being manhandled. "He's not… He's not… He _hates_ strangers! I don't understand…"

Gilbert could breathe again as soon as the polar bear was off his chest.

Matthew laid his pet on a pile of clothes in the corner of the tent and sighed, stroking his fur. He seemed to be fond of the polar bear even when Kumajirou paid him no attention and just continued sleeping.

"That's alright," Gilbert said even though it was _not_ alright and he thought his heart would beat right out of his ribcage.

Matthew was still watching the polar bear with a puzzled expression.

"He _hates_ strangers," he whispered again.

Gilbert slipped out from under the blankets and smoothed his collared shirt back into place so that he was covered. He reached for his pack and found a change of clothes that mirrored what he had worn yesterday: another collared shirt, a pair of trousers, and a pair of socks. There was a canister in the bottom of the pack with what was left of their previous earnings but the rest was clothes.

He changed. When he turned around, he found Matthew watching him. Matthew flushed a bit when he was caught staring but he did not avoid eye contact or pretend it had not happened; performers changed costumes in front of each other all the time and this was no different. To call attention to it would have made it awkward when it should not be.

Gilbert found his suspenders and buckled them into place before slipping into his shoes. He was dressed.

It must have been just after dawn because the inside of the tent was lightening in shades and stages. Gilbert noticed for the first time that the tent was lilac; it had been too dark last night to see much detail. The colour matched Matthew's eyes and he wondered if it had been done on purpose or whether it was just a fortunate coincidence.

It might have been done on purpose. It seemed like the sort of coordination the ringmaster would be concerned with, rather than performances or schedules.

Matthew went back to the crate of clothes he had found the nightgown in some hours before and plucked a clean, white version of what he had been wearing the first time Gilbert met him. He had a suspicion that most of his casual practice clothes were the same loose, cotton outfit.

He changed and Gilbert focused on his surroundings instead of the blonde. The tent was neat on one side and an awful mess on the other. He assumed that the mess was the fault of Alfred because Matthew folded his nightgown in a neat pile and set it on the floor. The other side of the tent was littered with haphazard mounds of clothes. It was plain, despite the mess, but it was also much more practical than the ringmaster's idea of decorating had been. Plain was much easier to pack and unpack.

Matthew tied his drawstrings and ran his fingers through his curls in an attempt to set them back in place. It did not work.

He sighed.

"Let's go save your brother."

* * *

Gilbert would not have thought his brother needed saving before he saw him standing outside an olive tent with a haunted stare. He kept his back to the tent and was holding the flaps closed as if he was afraid of what was on the other side.

"Brother," he said when Matthew and Gilbert approached. His voice was vague and quiet in disbelief. "I have never met someone who could talk so much in so little time."

Matthew patted his arm in sympathetic gesture. He must have known the twins would drive Ludwig to distraction.

"It's alright, it's alright. It'll be fine," he reassured him as he shifted Ludwig in the direction of breakfast. Matthew guided him with gentle hands because he was bewildered and unresponsive. "Feliciano will be asleep for at least another hour. You're safe now, shhh…"

Gilbert followed behind them with his arms crossed and cradling the back of his head. He thought that Ludwig's bedtime stories might be almost as interesting as his own.

But he doubted there was a polar bear in his.

* * *

Matthew led them to a grand open circle on the eastern side of the grounds where the rest of the performers were lounging and eating breakfast. There were no tents here; it was a gathering place. There were mismatched logs and benches and barrels scattered in a semicircle to be used as seats. In the centre of the circle was a large fire pit.

There was no fire at the moment and the scorched earth seemed cold and unwelcoming even as the performers clamoured to speak over each other. The noise echoed in the morning hush.

None of the performers spared him or his brother a glance, still chattering, as Matthew brought them through the crowd to the other side without acknowledging a soul. He was supposed to introduce them but he made no move to interrupt the conversations and do so. Gilbert and Ludwig kept quiet and followed him.

Matthew walked straight to a man who was hanging upside down from a wide wooden pole. His ankles and wrists were bound with shackles and locks. He was wearing a blindfold, a gag, and earplugs so that he could not see or speak or hear. He was blonde but that was about all Gilbert could ascertain from this angle.

Was this some form of punishment and, if so, what the hell could he have done to deserve it?

None of the other performers were even watching the spectacle.

Matthew grasped either side of his face, careful when the blindfolded man jumped from the unexpected contact, and gently knocked their foreheads together. The man was quiet for all of two seconds; one, two; before he started screeching muffled words and squirming.

He shook a lock pick from his sleeve and somehow managed to catch it before it hit the ground. He went to work on the locks at his wrist and sent them tumbling in under a minute. He reached up, tightening his stomach muscles in a sort of upside down crunch, and started on his ankles. The locks snapped open and he flipped in the air so that he landed on his feet with a dramatic flourish.

He grabbed at the blindfold and gag and tore them off.

"Mattie!"

Shit, he was loud.

"Alfred."

Alfred cocked his head to the side in confusion, staring at him, and Matthew tapped his ears with a sigh. Alfred laughed and plucked out the earplugs with a sheepish grin.

So, this was Alfred. There was no doubting that they were twins when they were standing side by side but there were still differences between them; Alfred was a little broader with cornflower blue eyes instead of lavender. His hair was shorter and straight and his chin was more chiselled and masculine.

It was more than those understated physical differences, though; their auras were complete opposites. Matthew was wrapped in a soft, reserved manner whereas Alfred was exuberance and excitement personified. There was no doubting that they were twins but it would be ridiculous to confuse them for each other.

Alfred pounced on Matthew and knocked their foreheads together again, harder than Matthew had done a moment before.

"I missed you!"

Matthew clutched at his forehead with a frown but there was a twinkle in his eyes that said he had missed his brother too.

"Where were you last night?"

Alfred's smile cooled half a degree but held in place.

"Nowhere."

"Liar." The two of them stared at each other, communicating in those unspoken words between siblings, before Matthew sighed and dropped the subject. "Alfred, this is Gilbert. Ludwig."

Alfred lit up again and circled them. He touched Gilbert's white hair and skin with a sound of awe and measured Ludwig's muscles without invitation or thought to personal space.

"Oh, wow! You're enormous!" He said to Ludwig, hanging off of him, before turning to Gilbert. "And you! You're pale as all hell! Did you know that your eyes are red?"

"No," Gilbert replied dryly, "I had never noticed."

"Gilbert, Ludwig," Matthew interrupted, "this is my brother, Alfred. He's an escape artist."

Ludwig held out his hand and Alfred shook it vigorously. Gilbert did not offer his hand but Alfred failed to notice the transgression.

Matthew did and frowned at him.

"It is… Nice to meet you," Ludwig said but Gilbert did not echo his sentiments because it would have been a lie. It was not that he _disliked_ Alfred so much as he was unsure if he _liked_ him. He was reserving his judgement.

"Let me guess…" Alfred studied them. "The new strongman and a freak?"

He did not spit the word 'freak' as Roderich had the night before; he said it as if it were a title in the same vein as 'acrobat', 'clown', or 'escape artist'. It was. Gilbert added a couple of points in his favour and it must have softened his expression because Matthew stopped frowning at him.

"Yes." Matthew seemed relieved that an understanding had been established. "Can you help me introduce them to the others?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow and surveyed the rambunctious performers eating breakfast and laughing.

"You want me to get their attention, then?" He asked.

"Please," Matthew confirmed.

Alfred clamoured back up the pole he had been hanging from without further question and stood on top of it with his feet apart and his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted.

Gilbert had thought he was loud _before _but this was outrageous.

"OI! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" The performers all turned to do just that and Gilbert was impressed with the reaction. Silence echoed across the clearing.

"What do you want, you great twit?" Gilbert recognized him as the magician who had almost run into him. Arthur. He was sitting with a bowl of porridge in his hand and his assistant, Francis, had thrown himself onto his lap. Francis was blinking up at Alfred with unfocused curiosity. Gilbert thought he must not be much of a morning person; he seemed half asleep and more like a languid cat as he rested his head on Arthur's knees.

"It's not me, old man." Alfred pointed down to his brother who was blushing again. "Mattie has something to say!"

The performers turned their attention from Alfred to Matthew and the blushing intensified. Gilbert wondered again what sort of performer was this timid.

"I… Ummm…" He started but someone interrupted him.

"Louder! We can't hear you!" There was an eruption of laughter as if this were a common jest but Alfred shushed them. Matthew bit his lip but seemed to gather himself so that his stuttering and blushing disappeared. He started over again.

"This is Gilbert and this is his brother Ludwig." Matthew pointed to each of them as he introduced them and the performers focused on them instead. "They're joining the circus."

Matthew stood next to them so that he could point out the performers and make the most basic of introductions. Gilbert should have been nervous when he sucked in enough air to fill his lungs before beginning.

"Alright. That's Arthur, our magician," he pointed to the brusque blonde, "and Francis, his assistant."

"His _lovely_ assistant." Francis corrected him.

Arthur glowered and pushed Francis off of his lap. Gilbert could see the slightest tinge to his cheeks.

"There is nothing 'lovely' about you," Arthur growled. "Prat."

Matthew carried on without pause.

"That over there is Berwald and Tino. They're clowns." Gilbert had met them before but it was strange to see them without their faces painted. Berwald was scarier without the make up but Tino seemed sweet. He waved at Gilbert. "And over there is Antonio and Lars. They're also clowns."

Gilbert had not met the other two before. The first one had dark hair and sparkling green eyes. Antonio smiled and it was the brightest, most sincere smile Gilbert had ever seen. The second clown, Lars, was leaning against a barrel and staring at Gilbert with an unreadable expression. His hair was light and haphazard; sticking up in all directions.

"Vash is our sharpshooter," Matthew redirected his gaze to the man cleaning a rifle. "And that's his younger sister, Lili. She is his assistant."

Lili was sitting at her brother's feet. She had a wide stare that matched her brother's but, whereas his were borderline hostile, her green eyes were alert with quiet intelligence even as she drew her knees up against her chest.

She seemed timid but she must have been brave to let her brother shoot apples off of the top of her head.

Matthew pointed to Elizabeta and Gilbert wanted to march right over to her and kick her in the shin. She smirked at him as if she was thinking the same. Gilbert knew then that the two of them would either be marvellous friends or sworn enemies.

He was not sure which worried him more.

"You've met Elizabeta. She's our animal trainer." Matthew pointed at a youth on the other side of the circle. His eyes were cold and there was a black and white bird perched on his head. "That's… Ummm… 'Ice'."

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow and Matthew leaned forward to explain in a whisper.

"No one can pronounce his actual name. There are a lot of vowels… We just call him 'Ice' instead because he's a little distant and his brother has never corrected us. He is apprenticing under Elizabeta as an animal trainer."

Gilbert looked between Elizabeta and Ice. She was all chaotic passion whereas he was cool detachment and Gilbert wanted to laugh. The animal trainers were fire and ice personified.

Matthew continued.

"Over here is Lukas. He's a freak, like you, and Ice's brother. Matthias is sitting next to him and he is also a freak."

They looked like freaks. Lukas was as detached as his brother and Matthias seemed manic as he waved at Gilbert. Both were fair and blonde with pale blue eyes. Lukas was staring past Gilbert as if there was someone lurking behind him. He checked, just to be sure, but there was no one there.

"This is Natalia; she's an impalement artist, and her sister Katyusha. Katyusha is a target girl."

Natalia was glaring and him and fondling a knife between her fingers. Her sister smiled at him, as if she had not given him terrible directions the night before, and he made a mental note to question her definition of the colour 'red' the next time he spoke to her.

"… And that's their brother Ivan. He is also a freak."

Ivan was a great hulking figure sitting next to his diminutive sisters. He was wearing a coat and a scarf, although it was much too warm, and gloves. He was sitting with his legs apart, leaning forward on his knees, and watching Gilbert over interlocked fingers.

Gilbert had never seen such immediate hatred reflected in the eyes of a stranger. For Roderich, the bitterness had been impersonal; directed at a concept rather than a person. For Ivan, it was very much personal.

It was obvious that Ivan did not like him but looking into those cruel, shallow eyes, Gilbert was sure he did not like him either.

"Umm… Let's see… Yao and Kaoru are our pyrotechnicians and stage managers." He pointed to two slight men with dark hair curled up against a barrel. Yao seemed to be sleeping but he must have been listening because he raised a hand in salute when his name was mentioned. Kaoru was watching him but his stare was sort of vacant and uncaring.

"Heracles is… Is…" Matthew pointed to another sleeping man, although this one was passed out instead of just pretending, and exchanged a glance with his brother. "What does Hercules even do?"

The man he was pointing at was sprawled across a bench and a blatant contrast to the attentive, watchful man with excellent posture sitting next to him. His hair was a mess and his vest was on inside out.

Alfred shrugged his shoulders.

"I have no idea."

Matthew frowned but continued.

"Uh, so, that is Hercules and no one is quite sure what he does around here…"

Gilbert snorted. Matthew shifted his attention to the man sitting beside him.

"That is Kiku; he is an acrobat."

Kiku nodded his head in greeting and kept his hands folded in his lap. He was wearing a similar outfit to the one Matthew was sporting; loose cut and white cotton. Matthew pointed out a couple of others in the same outfit.

"This is Bella," he pointed to a woman with a ribbon in her hair who seemed to be instant 'big sister' material, "and that is Im Yong Soo. They're also acrobats."

Im Yong Soo raised a hand in welcome although the sleeve of his tunic covered his fingers because it was too big on him. He was exuberant and Gilbert wondered how old he was as he squirmed in his seat.

"And, um, well," he was interrupted when the twins who manhandled his brother came running into the clearing. Lovino was struggling into his own loose, white tunic.

"Ah! We slept in!" Feliciano came to a skidding halt and his bother slammed into him with a startled swear. He rubbed the back of his head in shame even as his brother wrapped his fingers around his neck.

Someone laughed.

"What else is new?"

The rest of the performers started laughing too and chaos was restored as Lovino started strangling his brother and half a dozen other performers joined in. Alfred jumped off of the pole and leapt into the skirmish with a scream of delight. Matthew leaned in so that Gilbert could hear him over the noise.

"And, of course, Feliciano and Lovino are acrobats too."

Gilbert glanced at his brother and grinned when he saw that he was caught somewhere between longing and terror as he watched Feliciano run in circles. Yes, his brother had it bad for the acrobat.

"And, um, there are others too, but no one else is here this morning. The ringmaster and his assistants almost never eat here and I have no idea where Sadiq or Gupta are…"

Gilbert refocused on the blonde. He sounded almost apologetic, as if he had failed somehow in his introductions, because some of the main cast was missing. Gilbert laughed at his ridiculous standards and leaned on his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

He flavoured the words with a touch of the forbidden and was rewarded when Matthew blushed. He failed to notice several glares from some of the other performers.

Matthew brushed him off but the blush would not fade.

"I need to, um, go practice. Right now."

He turned and ran for the other side of the clearing. Gilbert watched him go in bemusement, wondering again how someone who wore his heart on his sleeve could stand to join the circus, before wading into the chaos to find another member of the freakshow.

* * *

"So, how long have you been a freak?"

Gilbert glanced askance at the towering man and tried to decide if he was serious. Matthias was leading him through the collection of tents to the one designated for the freakshow.

"My whole life."

"Really?" He sounded genuinely interested but Lukas snorted. He was an albino; it should be obvious that he had always been a freak.

"What do you do?" He asked because it was less obvious with them. Both of them seemed normal enough at first glance so it must be their act that set them apart.

"Lukas handles fire walking and the bed of nails and other such acts. He never flinches." He sounded proud but Lukas waved it off. "I practice sword swallowing and fire eating."

Gilbert stopped walking for a moment and cocked an eyebrow as suggestive innuendos flashed through his mind. The man must have lost his gag reflex a long time ago…

He shook his head and rushed to catch up again.

"And what's his deal?" Gilbert pointed further up the path to Ivan. He was walking a dozen tents ahead and ignoring them.

Matthias shrugged.

"He just scares the shit out of everyone. That's an act all on its own."

Gilbert laughed, too loud, and Ivan paused to glare at him before turning a corner and disappearing. Gilbert frowned.

"I think he hates me."

Matthias smacked him on the back and knocked the wind out of him in his enthusiasm. Gilbert coughed and Lukas snorted again.

"Ah, Ivan hates everyone."

Gilbert was not sure if that was supposed to be comforting but Matthias seemed to think so as he smiled down at him. Lukas just shook his head and dragged his finger over his neck to mime slitting a throat.

"… Fuck."

* * *

Gilbert sat on a wooden crate in the patched blue tent and watched as Matthias and Lukas practiced their acts. Ivan was standing next to him but he was watching him instead and it took most of his control to keep from lashing out at him. It had been less than two days since he joined this troupe and he wanted to avoid an altercation.

But it was difficult.

He focused on Matthias juggling fire. Lukas sat on a bed of nails with his legs crossed and his eyes closed.

"I do not like you."

Gilbert glanced at him with an arrogant smile.

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

"… Perhaps I have been too subtle, then."

Gilbert laughed in disbelief. His copious accent was difficult to understand but it was obvious that Ivan did not grasp the subtleties of sarcasm. He shrugged.

"Sure."

"Do not touch the acrobat and we will not have a problem."

He must have meant Matthew but it was none of his business, as far as he knew, and 'no' just tempted him further. He did not like Ivan either. Not at all.

But he _did_ like Matthew.

So…

"And if I do?"

"Then we have a problem."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_This is an introduction chapter. The names used here might be changed in the future, for those characters that do not have 'official' names but I just used some of the more popular ones in the meantime._

_I owe a lot of people replies. Still. You know who you are. I will not be able to do much for anyone for the next couple of weeks. I suck eggs, I know. _

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this piece.**_

_P.S. My grandmother is terminal. I am depressed. Love me._


	4. Practice Makes Perfect

_I got my head in the clouds_

_I just met an angel_

_I don't want to come down_

_What a beautiful stranger_

_**Head in the Clouds – Fabian Buch**_

* * *

**One Step at a Time**

_Practice Makes Perfect_

Gilbert sat and watched Matthew climb up to the tightrope tied taut between two poles. He needed to crane his neck to follow his progress up the ladder because it was higher than most of the tents.

It had been two weeks since he arrived at the circus with his brother. The two of them had a tent to themselves now but he sort of missed bunking with the acrobat.

Alright, so there was no 'sort of' about it; he missed him.

But not the polar bear.

He saw Matthew at breakfast and then sometimes in the rush between performances but it was not enough. He wanted to see more of him. He wanted to see more of him whether or not Ivan gave his consent.

Tension had been building between the two of them since that first meeting and it seemed worse each sunrise. He was supposed to work with him, or at least not strangle him, and it was difficult to do either. Ivan made it obvious that he disliked him and Gilbert returned the favour.

Matthias and Lukas just tried not to stand between them.

Gilbert was not _exactly_ sure what his attachment to the blonde was, yet, but Ivan was adamant that Gilbert leave him alone.

Gilbert snorted.

Fuck that.

Matthew crawled onto the top of one of the poles and it rocked under his weight and the wind. Gilbert gasped.

There was no sane reason to do that. He could not be convinced to do the same, not now, not ever. He was not afraid of heights but tightrope walking was pushing it, even for him.

Matthew drew a breath and stepped out onto the rope without looking down.

And all of a sudden, Gilbert understood how Matthew became a performer despite his bashful, introverted nature.

Oh, wow…

He was not walking on the tightrope; he was dancing on it.

He touched the rope with soft precision and leaned into the wind. He danced with grace, one foot after the other, and corrected his balance with subtle changes to his posture.

Gilbert shielded his eyes against the glaring sun to watch him dance in awe. His head was in the clouds and it suited him.

He was beautiful.

Gilbert was not sure how long he sat there watching but he was surprised to see the sun set behind the tents as Matthew came back down to earth.

Matthew seemed just as surprised. He had not known that Gilbert was here.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert nodded and massaged his aching neck.

"Matthew."

"What are you doing here?" He was blushing as he reached for a threadbare towel and swept it across his forehead. His tunic was soaked through with sweat.

"I was watching you."

The blush intensified and Gilbert smirked, knowing that he had put it there.

"… Why?"

"Matthias set the tent on fire again. We were dismissed after the ringmaster stopped screeching," he paused and met his stare. "… And I missed you."

"Oh!"

"Did you miss me?"

He knew he was pushing the envelope a bit but he did not care. He had been making friends, he supposed, with Matthias and Lukas, and then with Antonio, Francis, and Arthur, but he missed the blonde. He wanted to know if he felt the same.

Matthew bit his lip and Gilbert wondered where the confidence on the tightrope went when he touched the ground again.

"… Yes. I missed you too…"

Gilbert grinned.

"Do you want to come to dinner with me?"

"… Yes."

Gilbert kissed him on the cheek, innocent and unabashed, and led the blonde towards the fire pit. He laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders whilst he stuttered.

* * *

Gilbert stretched and opened his eyes. It was morning.

His brother was asleep in the cot across from him and it was much too small for his large frame. He was not surprised to see a tuft of chestnut hair tucked under his chin; Feliciano had been sneaking into their tent and crawling under the covers with Ludwig since they were assigned a tent a week ago. It was blue, which the ringmaster said complimented both of them.

Ludwig had tried to convince Feliciano to return to his own tent several times but each time Feliciano managed to win the argument. Gilbert was sure it was because he was adorable. It was fun to watch the strongman lose an argument against a slight acrobat just because Feliciano knew when to flutter his eyelashes.

Gilbert tumbled out of bed and slipped into new clothes; trousers, a stained undershirt, and suspenders. He did not have to wear practice clothes like some of the other performers; his act was to be himself. It was one of the perks of albinism.

He left and walked down the aisle of tents. The sun was still below the horizon and the morning chorus echoed through the trees surrounding the campgrounds. Most of the performers were asleep but he met Arthur and Lili at the fire pit.

Arthur was massaging his temples and talking to Lili while she ate some porridge and listened with attentive patience.

"… And the fucking prat just kept chasing me around the tent."

She nodded.

"That, um, that sounds difficult."

"Ugh. I hate him."

Gilbert sat down next to them and patted Arthur on the back.

"What's the matter? Is Francis bothering you again?"

"He never stopped bothering me!"

Gilbert reached for a crude bowl and dipped it into the porridge. There were no spoons; most of the performers used pieces of dried bread or their fingers. Lili was using dried bread; he used his fingers.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"… Kill him?"

Lili squeaked in surprise and shook her head back and forth. Gilbert waggled a finger coated in porridge at her.

"Ah, ah, ah. He won't kill him. He even likes him half of the time."

"Fuck you, I do not."

"Mmhmm. Sure."

"I do not!"

Gilbert nudged him with the toe of his shoe and Arthur growled. He kicked back. Lili giggled at their antics.

* * *

Antonio sat with him on the makeshift fence and watched Elizabeta chase horses around the pen. 'Ice' was perched on the opposite fence with a couple of birds and a trained dingo. He ignored Elizabeta.

"I think he misses his brother."

Gilbert glanced at him. Antonio was smiling but it was a little tight around the corners. He was an auguste clown but he wore the same expressions whether or not he was in costume.

"… Who?"

"Lovino."

Gilbert snorted.

"I doubt it. He spends all of his time screaming at him. Or my brother. Or you."

Antonio shrugged.

"He doesn't mean it."

"It sounds like he means it."

Antonio continued to smile but it seemed more than a little tight now.

"He doesn't mean it," he repeated.

Gilbert watched Elizabeta instead of answering but he made a note to mention it to Francis and perhaps even his brother if it was so important to Antonio. The man was so laidback that it _must_ be important if he was so concerned.

* * *

Francis disappeared behind the curtain with another pile of costumes and Gilbert leaned back in his chair and studied his fingernails while Francis changed.

"I would listen to Antonio if I were you."

"But it does not _seem _like he misses Feliciano."

"Of course he does! He is _just_ like my mulish, stubborn magician. Kiku has a special word for it but I never remember it… Tsu… Tsude… Ah, I have forgotten it again."

"… You think so?"

"I do." Francis stepped out from behind the curtains in a dreadful pink number and raised his arms over his head. "What about this one?"

"It's, um, very pink."

Francis placed his hands on his hips.

"… And…?"

"… You look fantastic?"

"Oh, you are too sweet!" He kissed him, right on the lips, and disappeared in a flutter of pink fabric and sequins. Gilbert laughed and swiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"And you are too easy. When are you going to stop throwing yourself at Arthur?"

Francis peeked out from between the curtains.

"When he kisses me, of course!"

"You kiss him all the time."

France waggled his finger.

"Ah, but there is the problem! _I_ kiss _him_. I want _him_ to kiss _me_." He ducked back behind the curtain before reappearing in an outfit composed of blue glitter and little else. "What about this one?"

"… Uh, it's sparkly."

"… And…?" He prompted.

"… You look fantastic…?"

"Oh, you!"

* * *

Gilbert sat on a crate and watched Matthew dance across the tightrope. He raised his hands over his head and shifted his feet with meticulous care. It seemed as if he were dancing to music that no one else could hear.

He removed his tunic at some point and it fluttered down to earth.

Gilbert picked it up.

He had taken to watching Matthew like this, so close and still so far, before coaxing him to dinner. It was not a lot of time but he had him all to himself from here to the fire pit and that was alright.

That was more than alright.

That was perfect.

Matthew started walking on his hands and Gilbert sucked in a breath of alarm as his muscles strained with the weight. It was a slow process that required a lot of strength and concentration. Matthew said it was impossible to do unless the tightrope was tied tight enough.

His hand slipped a bit and he lowered himself onto his stomach, mindless of his missing tunic, and wrapped himself around the tightrope before finding his balance again and standing up. It was almost dusk. He would need to come back down soon.

But Gilbert could wait.

* * *

Ivan leaned over the fence and into his line of sight and Gilbert groaned. He tugged his cap down over his eyes and tried to block him out. He just wanted to take a nap in the pen with the circus animals and wait for the noon sun to dip below the tents. It was too hot to deal with the other man.

"What now, asshole?"

"Someone is telling me that you are still watching the acrobat."

"… There are a lot of acrobats here. You need to be a little more specific."

"There is only one acrobat I care about. Leave him alone or we will have a problem."

He turned and disappeared again. Gilbert kicked an overturned barrel once Ivan was gone and it was the pain of his throbbing foot that kept him from running after him and punching him.

It kept his mind on what was important.

* * *

"Perhaps Feli should sleep in his own tent for awhile."

Ludwig glanced up from his sewing with an exasperated expression. He was patching his outfit from where his muscles had grown and torn the fabric but that was a common problem for strongmen.

"I tell him to go back to his tent in the evening but when I wake up, he is here. I do not know what else to do."

Gilbert looked him over.

"Do you like it?"

Ludwig stabbed himself in the finger with the needle in surprise and hissed. His face flushed.

"… Like what?"

"Do you like it when he sleeps here?"

"… Sometimes…"

"Hmmm…"

* * *

Gilbert sat in the tent and listened to Gupta coax a poisonous snake from a terracotta pot. He was not a freak, per se, but his act worked well with both Matthias and Lukas'. Gilbert had missed meeting him that first morning but he had not missed much.

The man was slight and dark and he never said a word.

The keening noise from his flute was sort of comforting. Gilbert knew from a former snake charmer that the snake was not as interested in the noise as it was the wavering end of the instrument but he could not imagine the act without music.

He closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him.

There was a stick of incense somewhere that made the performers and the snake a little lethargic. Even Ivan was not glaring quite as much as usual.

Gilbert took the moment of reprieve with a grain of salt: it would not last.

But he would take what he could get.

* * *

"Gilbert?"

"Matthew."

"Are you here to pick me up again?"

"… Maybe. Do you mind?"

Matthew plucked the towel from his outstretched hand and tried to cover his blush with it. Gilbert saw it nevertheless.

"Um, no, I do not mind. Thank you."

Gilbert grinned at him. He was not sure what it was about the other man but his presence was soothing and calming. It made it easier to deal with a new circus and the fact that his brother was drifting further from him in favour of the brunette.

Gilbert held out his arm and Matthew threaded his hand through the opening. He patted his hand.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Gilbert watched as Alfred sealed himself in a suspended lead case without air. Francis wrapped it in chains and backed up with a flourish once the locks were in place.

"… I hope he suffocates."

Gilbert glanced at Arthur. He was also watching Alfred practice but the rest of the performers were distracted with the standard chaos.

"That's a bit harsh."

"Mmm."

Gilbert returned his attention to the case. It was shaking a bit and wobbling back and forth. Alfred had been wearing chains when he went in but he must have been out of them about now. No one seemed worried.

"… What if he _does _suffocate?"

Arthur snorted.

"It will never happen."

"Why?"

"There have been three accidents," he raised three fingers to punctuate his point, "since he joined the circus and, each time something went wrong, his brother came running from the other side of the compound to save him. The other set of twins does that too, sometimes."

"Matthew knew something was wrong?"

"Ah, but then again, Matthew usually knows when something is wrong. Say what you want about the boy but he listens better than most of us and he sees more than anyone else."

"It sounds like you like him."

"I do not like anyone. You know that." Arthur shrugged his shoulders but Gilbert did not miss the way his eyes softened in relief when Alfred finally burst from the case with a gasping breath and collapsed into Francis' waiting arms. It seemed, instead, that Arthur liked almost everyone.

But he would rather bite his tongue off than admit it.

* * *

Gilbert walked through the maze of tents with Matthew and admired his silhouette against the setting sun. He had picked him up for dinner again but it seemed to him that Matthew expected him by now.

"How was practice?"

"Ah, a bit too much wind. You?"

"Matthias set the tent on fire again. Lukas wanted to throw the hot coals at him, I think, but it's hard to tell with him. Ivan was furious. It's not hard to tell with him."

Matthew laughed.

"No, it's not."

Gilbert thought about asking Matthew what Ivan wanted with him but decided against it. Whatever his issue was, it was between the two of them, and it was a matter of privilege to keep it between them.

Besides, he adored the sound of Matthew laughing and he would hate to interrupt it over someone as bothersome as Ivan.

* * *

"Get out of my way, idiot."

"I was here first."

"No, I was."

Gilbert and Elizabeta glared at each other over the crates and baskets clutched in their arms. Gilbert wanted to go west and she wanted to go east but the narrow lane between the tents was not wide enough for both of them.

"Look, this weighs a ton, so if you would just back up…"

"You know what else weighs a ton? An elephant, and your ego! You back up."

"I was here first!"

"Haven't you ever heard of 'ladies first'?"

"If I see a lady, I'll be sure to let her through."

Elizabeta gasped but it was more sardonic than serious. Gilbert thought she must enjoy these arguments as much as he did. They were not friends, not quite, but it seemed that they were no longer enemies.

"Roderich was right. You _are_ boorish!"

"… What does that even mean?"

"… You know, I'm not sure…"

* * *

Alfred sat down next to him with an intense stare. Gilbert put up with it for all of two minutes before setting aside his porridge and turning to face him.

"Yes?"

"Ivan said that you're bothering my brother."

"… You talk to Ivan?" He had not seen that one coming but Alfred brushed it off as if it was meaningless.

"Never mind that. What're your intentions towards my brother?"

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. What a stereotypical question to ask.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

* * *

Gilbert sat and watched Matthew dance across the tightrope and frowned when he started jumping with another bit of swinging twine. He started bouncing from one pole to the other, skipping rope on one foot, and Gilbert had half a mind to climb up after him.

The other half of his mind said that was a bad idea.

"Are you still here?"

Gilbert glanced behind him to see a couple of acrobats step out from their practice tent. Bella was looking down at him from the summit of her stilts and leaning her hands on her hips. She was wearing oversized overalls that must have belonged to her brother. The ribbon in her hair was crooked and there was smudge of dirt on the tip of her nose.

"… Uh, yes."

"You better watch out for Ivan. He was just here."

Gilbert nodded his head. He was always a little nervous around Bella but he could not be sure if it was her nonchalant attitude or the fact that she was often towering over him.

Im Yong Soo jumped through the gap of her stilts and she kicked out one of her legs in an attempt to catch him. She missed.

"You really like him, huh?"

"Who?"

"Matthew."

"I suppose."

"Oh, please," he slipped some juggling bags from his long sleeves and started juggling four or five of them, "everyone is talking about it."

Bella kicked at him again.

"Who is 'everyone'?"

"Let's see… Alfred told Kiku who told Feliciano who told Lovino who told Antonio who told Bella who told me and I told everyone else!" He grinned and added another bag to the circle. Gilbert was not even sure how he managed to catch the bags when his sleeves were so long.

"… Did you tell Ivan?"

"Yes, just now!"

Gilbert swallowed and looked back up to where Matthew was still practicing.

"Fuck."

"You'll take care of him, right?"

"Who?"

"Matthew. Alfred said that you better."

Im Yong Soo was fifteen but he seemed even younger as he juggled and chattered in circles. Gilbert wanted to strangle him but he doubted that he even understood what he had done when he tattled to Ivan.

"… I will have to survive that long…"

* * *

"I am not sure what to do about Ivan. Punching him seems so… Gauche."

The polar bear smoothed his snout with one of his massive paws and Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. He was standing just inside the tent with a clear exit in mind in case the animal came too close but the polar bear was sitting on the cot and ignoring him.

"I know, I know, but I tried ignoring him."

The polar bear licked his paw.

"I tried that too."

Kumajiro batted at the flies hovering over him.

"I just do not know what to do."

The polar bear settled down into a nest of blankets and turned his back on Gilbert.

"… And why am I asking you?"

* * *

Gilbert sat in the shadow of a large tent and watched Matthew balance up on the tightrope. The sunlight glinted off of his golden curls and highlighted the crispness of his uniform. Gilbert felt a slow, content smile spread across his face even as he reflected on his first three weeks.

There was no place that he would rather be.

He felt comfortable here, waiting for Matthew, and Ivan was just going to have to deal with it. He was tired of checking over his shoulder or under his cot for the murderous man. He wanted to make him understand without throwing punches but he doubted that he could.

He just wanted the other man to disappear.

Gilbert tried to distract himself with other thoughts but each one was as complicated as the last. His brother and Feliciano, Feliciano and Lovino, Lovino and Antonio. Francis and Arthur. Alfred.

Ugh.

He wished his brother happiness, sure, but he did not like the increasing distance between them. And he liked Feliciano, sure, but now Lovino missed him and he could understand how that felt. And then poor Antonio was worried.

Gilbert focused on Matthew and let the thoughts drift through his mind. It was a welcome distraction.

He thought about the other two instead but Francis and Arthur were more of a passing irritation. Francis would never stop until he found what he wanted and Arthur was too stubborn to give it to him.

He moved on to the next issue.

Alfred.

How was Gilbert supposed to explain to Matthew's twin brother that he wanted into his white, cotton trousers? Alfred would punch him. He had avoided him for now but he would have to answer him soon enough. Also, what reason could he have for talking to Ivan in the first place? That bothered him… The two of them were such opposites.

Ugh.

It had come full circle back to his most pressing problem…

_Ivan._

And his incessant need to stand between him and Matthew.

Gilbert scratched his head with rough nails. It was so frustrating. He did not understand. Performers were known for sleeping around and loose morals but this circus was different.

Or, perhaps, Matthew was different.

Gilbert watched as the blonde pranced across the tightrope and felt his heart twinge. He saw Gilbert down below and bent forward with a wave and a laugh that made his stomach drop. None of his organs knew what was happening when the acrobat was around.

Yes, perhaps that was it.

Matthew was different.

Matthew started walking toward one of the poles and Gilbert pushed up off of the dirt. He buried the other thoughts in his mind, the ones about his brother or his friends or the threats, and focused on the blonde.

Matthew touched down and he passed him a towel.

"Were you waiting long?" He asked as he accepted the towel. His voice was a little rough from practice but the sound of it washed Gilbert clean of doubt and reservations.

Matthew was different. He was sure of it.

"I would have waited a lot longer than that."

He blushed. Gilbert reached out on a whim and tucked one of his curls behind his ear in tender gesture. He paused with his hand still there, tangled in the sweat and sweet perfume, and watched Matthew for a reaction.

Matthew blinked before such a smile bloomed across his face that it stole his breath. He leaned against his cupping hand and Gilbert leaned forward.

He stopped when Matthew gasped and pushed back.

"Gilbert, watch…"

Someone clutched his shoulder and spun him on the spot. Gilbert came face to face with a furious man. His expression was so contorted that it took Gilbert a moment to recognize Ivan.

"Now? We have a problem."

Ivan punched him in the chin with all of his strength.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Siblings… It's complicated business!_

_This chapter jumps around a bit, still within a stream of thought, to cover some time and the relationships that Gilbert has managed to cultivate since arriving. His brother would have cultivated relationships of his own. This is one of those stories that, if I wanted, after it was done I could write one shots from other points of view and explore what other characters were up to. That is one of the nice bits of creating a whole universe. _

_These problems and relationships will continue to progress in future chapters. I have this piece mapped out at about twenty chapters so there is still a way to go._

_As before, there are many characters to touch on here but the most important relationship will remain at the centre of it all._

_Just a note: I picture the clowns in the more classic French and Italian styles. Sweden would be a 'whiteface clown'(the straight man), Finland would be the 'contra auguste' (the mediator between the straight man and the fool and who looks up to the straight man), and Spain and The Netherlands would be an 'auguste' (the troublemaker and fool)._

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this piece.**_


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